


Whispers That Dance On the Storm

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Lies, Misdirection, and Terrible Truth [11]
Category: Mythology - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: GFY, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of this, he allows. All of this, he wants. Let them grow stronger, let them adapt and change and prepare. He will have a small army to meet Thanos', will bring the one who thought he could control Loki to his knees and scatter him to the wind. Even if that army does not fight for him, but for their world. Even if they wish him as dead as does Thanos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers That Dance On the Storm

_The rumble of thunder overhead is indeed, this time, the signal of his brother on his way, and Loki grins into the rising wind. The crows that had been waiting in the trees overhead take to the air, sharp cries as they circle in a dark cloud. Let his brother come, let the Avengers come, this is where he needs them._

"The man of iron did not - could not - have destroyed everything." Loki leans against the chair, one leg streched before him, the other bent so he could drape his arms across it. The footage they'd managed to steal from the servers while the distraction program ran hadn't made for comfort. Save for the fact that it was clear that the portal had not allowed much communication across it. "Thanos will still come."

"Then we find where and when, and we meet him, and we stop him." The words imply simplicity, but there is more to it than they can convey. There is information they cannot know until the first stirrings of a new invasion begin, and they have to act.

_Anat is more clear-edged than she had been before, beauty shed for war as she stands offset from his position. Spear and shield, armor bronze and leather backed by magic. Terrible, beautiful promise of blood and death. A whisper of dread on the rising wind._

He knows they watch him in this sanctuary, through the wide windows, through cameras and human eyes. He knows they try to find out who his allies are, and what they can do. He knows they test the measures the two have taken to ensure their sanctuary.

All of this, he allows. All of this, he wants. Let them grow stronger, let them adapt and change and prepare. He will have a small army to meet Thanos', will bring the one who thought he could control Loki to his knees and scatter him to the wind. Even if that army does not fight for him, but for their world. Even if they wish him as dead as does Thanos.

_The Morrigan's crows crowd darker and darker against the brewing storm, parting only to let a few through. Thor. Stark, in his metal suit. A jet which carries the others. Waiting as the air crackles with anticipation, six heroes of Earth thinking they are facing Loki and his allies._

"They will not believe you capable of wishing to prevent this." The Morrigan shakes her head as she watches something through the eyes of her crows.

"None of them are old enough to know of my wanderings." Loki lets his head tilt backward, eyes closed as he feels Anat's fingers combing through his hair. "Save Thor, who never really paid attention. He saw only glorious battle and the joy of the hunt."

"Such are those like him." The shift of fabric suggests a shrug. "They will learn, or they will not, but they will fight either way. This is their world as much as any other might claim it." It is Anat's world, and the Morrigan's, and now his, with Asgard barred from him. He will not claim Jotenheim, no matter his heritage, and no other realm truly appeals as more than a dalliance.

_There is no Tesseract here for Thanos to use to open a portal for his army. There is no bound sorcerer to give him passage over the empty spaces between the stars. Only his long-honed, death-forged will, and the skills of those left to him. It is apparently enough, because the portal is opening here. Loki can feel it beat against his skin, can feel the rage that backs it, the desire for death and vengeance that once he reveled in and shared._

He doesn't let them rest, even when they watch. Little pranks and tricks, games that cause damage to property and injuries without deaths - there is no reason to take from the magic he can play with. Manipulations that force them to keep up, to improve.

Sometimes he is the one who has to catch up, the one who has to desperately adapt in order to keep a step ahead of those he's training. That he's teaching to better defend their world, because he cannot claim any amount of power in a dead world. Cannot enjoy tormenting his opponents if they are gone.

_Battle is a dance, deadly and fast, magic and might both engaged to destroy his enemies. Blood flows like water, and the song of battle surrounds him. The clash of arms, the whine of energy blasts, and the sharp crack of projectiles the melody, the shuddering boom of explosions a heartbeat beneath, and screams and laughter an obscene descant above._


End file.
